


Eyes Without A Face

by mustachio



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Amnesia, Brainwashing, Desert Bluffs, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Kind of angsty, M/M, Mental Instability, Violence, but Kevin's happy, eye gore, which is never a good thing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-27
Updated: 2014-04-02
Packaged: 2018-01-02 18:41:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1060220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mustachio/pseuds/mustachio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kevin takes what he wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Eyes Without A Face

**Author's Note:**

> The initial idea for this was inspired by some [fanart](http://24.media.tumblr.com/4aa17cd866bae6d8ecac56278e30ea8a/tumblr_mud8u25wF91r5g2b3o1_500.png) I saw a while back by freedomconvicted on Tumblr. This is also posted on [Tumblr](http://clipperwilkinson.tumblr.com/post/68144964861/eyes-without-a-face-tw-eye-horror).

_Cecil cannot see._

He opens his eyes, but there is only blackness. Endless, maddening blackness. It frightens him, terrifies him to the very core, but no matter how wide he opens his eyes, he cannot see a thing.

Cecil’s eyes are open. Cecil’s eyes are not in their sockets. They are in a hand. A hand very much like Cecil’s, but decidedly not Cecil’s. The one not holding the eyes is running through Carlos’s perfect hair like Cecil’s would, but it is still not Cecil’s.

It is Kevin’s hand that runs through Carlos’s perfect hair. It is Kevin’s hand that holds Cecil’s eyes. It is Kevin’s lips that press against Carlos’s temple. It is Kevin that smiles cheerfully at Carlos. Kevin’s smile is too big and filled with too many teeth and it would be threatening if only Carlos were conscious and or if Cecil had his eyes.

Cecil cannot see. Cecil can hear. Cecil can feel.

Cecil can hear Carlos groan softly, no longer aware of anything going on around him. Cecil can hear, though not understand, Kevin murmuring in Carlos’s ear something that would almost sound soothing if not for the knowledge of who the words belonged to. Cecil can feel a throbbing where his eyes should be. Cecil can feel the blood running down his cheeks; tears that need no eyes.

The hand in Carlos’s hair tightens its grip for a moment before letting the strands slip through his fingers, falling sweaty and bloody into his closed eyes in perfect disarray.

"It’s a shame, friend," And Carlos must not be as out of it as either of them thought because he gasps when that too friendly, too cheerful voice begins speaking. Kevin’s voice is as painful to listen to as his hands are to feel. Kevin smile grows wider. He turns to Cecil. "It’s a shame your eyes didn’t fit, friend. They’re so pretty, I would have loved to borrow them."

Cecil feels two somethings drop onto his lap. They feel wet and round. They feel like what he imagines his eyes would feel like if they were relocated from their sockets onto his lap.

Cecil doesn’t react. Cecil tips his head down, leaning forward as much as he can with his arms bound to the back of the chair. The blood tears stain his slacks. It doesn’t matter. Cecil cannot see the stains. His shoulders shake with silent sobs.

Kevin frowns at the silent men before him. This isn’t right. They should be happier! They’ve been having such a good time! Cecil should not be crying; Carlos should not be crying.

"What’s wrong, friend? Do you need a hug? Hugs make everyone feel better!"

His hand wraps around Cecil’s throat, the grip coaxing a strangled gasp out of his double’s throat. Kevin holds him until he stops crying. Kevin smiles again and he is happy because Cecil is happy. Cecil is happy! Kevin was able to make Cecil happy with his hug! He loves making his friends happy. He loves it so, so much! He only hopes he’ll be able to make Carlos just as happy, maybe even more so.


	2. Believe in a Smiling God

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carlos was never happy as Carlos, Kevin thinks, and runs a bloody finger over Carlos's bloody cheek. Carlos was never happy with his double, Kevin thinks again, and looks to his double with a frown as agents from Strex carry him away. Carlos was never happy as Carlos and Carlos was never happy with Cecil, but maybe he would be happy as someone else; maybe he would be happy with Kevin. 
> 
> Kevin just wants to make him happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I imagine this might be pretty triggery for some people (as if the first chapter of this wasn't already pretty triggery with the eye gore and all that). Kevin is in the process of erasing all of Carlos's memories and brainwashing him into thinking he's someone else so if that's not your cup of tea, I'd stay away from this.

_Believe in a smiling god: StrexCorp_

He does not wake with a start, but he does wake in a room he swears is made of light.

His eyes flutter open slowly, weighed down by exhaustion and what he hopes is just an odd amount of mucus gathered on his eyelids.

There’s a noise washing over him – a voice, bright and cheery, too happy – but he can’t understand the words. On some level he thinks he might, but at the core level, the one in control of all of his immediate listening comprehension abilities does not. The words, if they are words, are just noise. He can’t tell if they’re comforting or disturbing noises. 

They might be both, if that’s possible.

_Go to sleep: Strex._

It feels like his ears are filled with water.

It feels like his brain is filled with water. 

Every word is distorted, every thought runs together. He thinks he can make out those words, though. The frightening, yet strangely calming voice is speaking to him; it’s saying: go to sleep.

So he does.

The world falls away until the room of light is a room of darkness and sleep fills his mind. He loses consciousness with one word running through his watery mind.

_Strex._

Someone is touching him.

Someone is holding his arm.

Something is in his arm.

Something is flowing through his arm.

Something is flowing through his arm to his chest to his head.

Something is leaving his arm.

Something cold and metal and sharp is withdrawing from his arm.

He opens eyes.

He sees obsidian.

He hears _go to sleep_.

He is lulled to sleep with one word running through his mind.

_Strex._

He does not wake with a start.

For a moment, he’s unsure if he’s even awake at all.

“Why isn’t he waking up?”

So then he isn’t awake. Or maybe he is. Can people hear things when they’re asleep? He isn’t sure.

A hand runs through his hair, soft and unsure. He wishes the hand would be a little surer. Having a hand stroke his hair feels good, but the touch is too light, too fragile. If he moves it could leave.

“Sweetie?”

Sweetie? That doesn’t sound right. He doesn’t think anyone calls him Sweetie. He tries to think of someone who might call him that, but his mind is too static-y to remember. 

Lips press against the side of his head, something nicks the skin there. Something wet and warm trails down the side of his face. It’s wiped away quickly.

The hand in his hair moves to hold his own hand. The hand holding his is cold and strange, but feels like an anchor keeping him grounded when his head makes him feel like he’s floating through the open ocean.

His eyes flutter open, free of exhaustion and what was probably an odd amount of mucus gathered on his eyelids.

He sees eyes like obsidian and teeth like knives and finds, even in the face of these decidedly abnormal things, the hand on top of his is too comforting for him to feel alarm.

“Oh, Ricardo, you’re awake! I’m so glad!”

The hand on his moves to his face, thumb stroking his cheek in slow, soothing motions. The man isn’t familiar, but his touch and his voice make him feel better.

Ricardo.

Is that him? Is that is name? He didn’t realize it before, but he can’t remember his name, can't remember ever having had a name.

Ricardo.

The name doesn’t feel right. The name doesn’t feel wrong. It feels like something, but it doesn’t feel right or wrong or familiar or unfamiliar and he can’t tell what it does feel like, but it doesn’t feel like any of those things.

“Ricardo?”

The man with the soothing voice and the soothing touch furrows his brow, looks at him with something that might be concern, but also might be something else. It’s hard to tell with this man than doesn’t feel familiar or unfamiliar just like that name.

“That’s my name.”

He – Ricardo, or maybe not, but possibly Ricardo – isn’t sure if he means for that to be a question. It comes out as more of a statement, but it could also be a question. Everything suddenly feels very confusing all of a sudden or maybe it was always confusing and that’s why he needed soothing in the first place.

The man who calls him Ricardo smiles a funny little smile. He can’t tell if it’s sad or relieved or mad. It doesn’t matter, probably. It’s hard to tell if it’s even actually a smile.

“Yes.” The man with the soothing touch and the obsidian eyes and the nice voice who calls him Ricardo strokes his hair again, nods. “Your name is Ricardo. The doctors said you might not remember some things. That’s okay, though. I’ll help you remember.”

He, who is Ricardo, but doesn’t feel like Ricardo, but also doesn’t feel like someone who isn’t Ricardo, closes his eyes, tries to remember something, anything. His mind feels still feels static-y, empty where there should be something. It feels light and heavy all at the same time. It’s a little unpleasant. He wants the feeling to go away. He wants the man who wants to help him remember everything to take the feeling away. Or maybe he wants someone else. It feels like he probably wants this man and why wouldn’t he? This man is right here. There is no one else. 

Vaguely, he remembers that this man was asking someone a question. The question has already slipped his mind. He wonders where the person he was asking the question to went, but then stops wondering because the thought seems to slip out of his mind almost as soon as it slips in. His mind feels very slippery.

“I want to remember.”

Ricardo – because he has no reason to think this man would lie about what his name is – closes his eyes, is sure that yes, he does want to remember. He wants to remember so much. And this man said he wanted to help. That’s good. That’s good because what if he got stuck with someone who didn’t want to help him remember? He would never know that his name is Ricardo or that there were doctors who said it was normal for him not to remember. He wishes he remembered why he doesn’t remember. He wishes he remembered a lot of things.

Now that he tries to remember, Ricardo thinks he doesn’t remember a lot more than just some things. It feels like he doesn’t remember anything. He doesn’t remember this man’s name and that makes something in his chest hurt. It doesn’t feel right to not remember this nice man’s name. He’s sweet and he makes Ricardo want to remember.

“I want to remember you.”

Ricardo turns his head to look at the man more fully. It’s weird how this man looks so familiar but also not. He makes Ricardo feel disjointed. Or maybe Ricardo was already feeling disjointed. It’s hard to tell what he’s feeling and what he isn’t when everything is static-y and disconnected the way that it is.

“I want you to remember me, too.” The man who wants to help him remember and who he wants to remember leans down, presses a kiss to his forehead. It feels nice and also a little bit of something else. It’s hard to tell what that something else is. Maybe he should stop trying to think of what he’s feeling. “My name is Kevin.”

Kevin. That name feels familiar, but also doesn’t. Just like everything else. But he decides he likes that name, even if it doesn’t feel familiar or unfamiliar. He likes that name like he likes that voice and that touch and those obsidian eyes that seem like they should be strange, but aren’t. Not really.

“That’s a nice name.”

Kevin smiles at him wider now, but still with closed lips. It’s a happier smile, but it’s not happy enough. Ricardo wants him to look happier.

“Go to sleep.” Ricardo isn’t sure why he expects the word Strex to come out of Kevin’s mouth. It doesn’t and Ricardo doesn’t mind even if he expected it. “You must be exhausted. We can talk about everything in the morning. Go to sleep.”

Kevin smiles wider, with teeth that might be a little too pointy. Ricardo’s eyes feel heavy. Sleeping would be nice. Very, very nice.

He closes his eyes, relaxes. Sleep comes easy to him.

_He believes in a smiling god._


	3. Name Without A Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Associating with Cecil made Carlos imperfect. Kevin will help him become perfect as Ricardo.

Ricardo dreams.

Ricardo _thinks_ he dreams.

“I’ve been dreaming,” He tells Kevin one day.

Kevin smiles at him sweetly and rests a hand on his. It both unsettles and settles him.

“Tell me about your dreams.” Kevin says, all calm and soothing and warm. His voice bores into Ricardo’s brain and makes him sleepy.

Kevin strokes his other hand through Ricardo’s hair and Ricardo finds himself leaning into the touch.

“Ricardo?”

Ricardo’s eyes flutter open—when had he closed them?—and Kevin is still smiling at him. What had they been talking about?

“You were going to tell me about your dreams,” Kevin prompts patiently. Kevin has been so patient with him. Ricardo is very happy for it. he thinks anyone else might not be so patient with him and the way things always slip out of his brain.

Ricardo squints at the bright yellow wall in front of him. It’s a very nice color, he thinks. Kevin told him once that it’s the color of the Smiling God. It’s a good color for smiling.

“I don’t remember my dream.” Ricardo doesn’t notice the way his voice shakes, but he notices when his hands begin to tremble.

Kevin’s hand that’s still holding his tightens its grip and Kevin’s lips kiss his forehead.

“I’m sorry,” Ricardo apologizes without knowing why. Kevin has never been angry with him before, but sometimes Ricardo just gets these awful flashes of fear when Kevin is around. It’s unpleasant. He just wants those flashes to go away. He prefers it when Kevin is comforting. “I’m sorry I can’t remember.”

“You don’t have to apologize for anything. We’re going to replace all of your missing memories soon, I promise. You want that, don’t you? Of course you do. Why wouldn’t you?” Kevin’s smile shifts somehow, but Ricardo can’t place the change. “Don’t you worry about a thing. We are going to see that you are good as new. You will be _perfect_.”

Ricardo beams.

Perfect.

Perfect is good.

Ricardo wants to be perfect for Kevin. Kevin comes to see him every day and tries so hard to help him remember.

Perfect.

The word rings like a bell in Ricardo’s mind, bringing flashes of things that fade too quickly for him to fully comprehend. 

There is a face.

There is a voice.

There is a word.

“Cecil.” Ricardo says. “Cecil.” He repeats.

Kevin furrows his brow, smile replaced with a frown. Unhappiness does not look natural on Kevin.

“What?” Kevin’s grip grows painful and Ricardo knows he’s done something wrong. “What did you say?”

“I remember—I think I remember that from my dream.” Explaining this does not seem to make Kevin feel any better. “I don’t know what it means—only that you saying perfect reminded me.”

Kevin smiles. It is not a happy smile. _It is not a happy smile_. Ricardo can’t breathe when Kevin smiles that smile. Kevin’s grip loosens. He strokes Ricardo’s hair.

A nurse walks in. she doesn’t look at them.

“I think it’s time for your medicine, Ricardo.”

The nurse takes a wet wipe to his arm, takes a needle to the sanitized area.

Liquid flows through his veins. Liquid flows through his body. Liquid flows through his brain, his ears. Liquid rushes through him, makes him feel clean and washed out.  Kevin told him once that the medicine takes all of the imperfections out of him. Ricardo likes the feeling of having all of the imperfections taken out of him. It makes him feel perfect. He wants to be perfect for Kevin.

Ricardo giggles. Kevin smiles sweetly.

“Tell me about Cecil.” Kevin says. Ricardo frowns.

“Cecil?” Ricardo closes his eyes. His head feels blissfully empty. “What’s Cecil?”

Kevin kisses his cheek. Ricardo kisses Kevin’s cheek. Kevin seems to like that. Ricardo likes that Kevin likes that.

“Nothing. Cecil is nothing.”

Ricardo thinks Cecil must be something or Kevin wouldn’t have asked him to talk about it, but doesn’t ask about it again. If Kevin doesn’t want to talk about it, Ricardo doesn’t want to talk about it.

Kevin stands. Ricardo frowns.

“I have to go to work now, Ricardo. I will be back later today to check on you.”

“Do you have to leave?”

“I’m afraid so. Go to sleep. You’ll’ hardly notice I’m gone.”

Kevin leaves. Ricardo lays back.

Ricardo dreams.


End file.
